Subzero
by Bon Iver
Summary: The chase.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

It started with the fountain.

Physically, Kitty Pryde, a.k.a. "Shadowcat," was gliding on the ice, her muscle memory having shaken off the rust of disuse that seemed to coat her muscles when she first began skating. Emotionally she felt as if she were floating, as transient as a wisp of cloud in a strong wind, apt to be blown away at any moment.

After the Professor's funeral earlier that day, Kitty had lain in her room and cried her eyes dry for several hours, until the visit paid by Bobby Drake – somewhat uninspiredly codenamed "Iceman," but that was probably a better option than the others proposed, like "Mr. Freeze" or "Frosty". She'd thought to herself at the time that it was a sweet gesture on his part, but she'd reined herself in by reminding herself that Bobby was Rogue's boyfriend, not hers. Worse, she'd actually said something about it to him, which, in addition to tipping her hand, had thrown into his face, once again, the difficulties inherent to a relationship in which one person was physically incapable of touching other people. After they shared an awkward moment followed by reminiscences about the Professor's role in their lives, Bobby outdid his earlier sweet gesture by bringing her out to the fountain in the front lawn and creating a rink for them to skate on.

Kitty glanced over at Bobby surreptitiously; she caught his strong jawline and those ice-blue eyes that melted her and every other teenage girl at the school into a puddle. Up to this point, the silence between them had not been awkward, but comfortable, companionable. Bobby had restrained himself admirably thus far: he was, understandably, an Olympic-caliber ice skater, but he hadn't showed off his skill in the least, content merely to take laps with her and let her forget – let them forget – about the grief, the pain, the loss… for a little while, at least.

Bobby's eyes flicked sideways to meet Kitty's gaze, and the corner of his lip curled into a smirk when she flushed. Aside from the ice, it wasn't particularly cold that night, so he knew her response arose from other-than-physical reasons. He wondered if she knew how difficult it was for him to rein in his usual ice-skating panache. He wondered if she knew how beautiful she was while gliding along the ice. He wondered if she knew how difficult it was to restrain himself earlier from taking her in his arms, if only to comfort her as he had done during the funeral when he took her hand.

Stop it, he told himself firmly. Rogue was his girlfriend, to whom he'd been utterly faithful, not Kitty – a fact which Kitty had reminded him of earlier, while unintentionally (he assumed) reminding him about how distant Rogue had been since Alkali Lake. Rogue kept blaming herself for "almost killing" him, despite the fact it was the late Professor's psionic pressure doing the most damage; she now freaked out even when he tried to touch her in 'safe' ways, like holding hands through the gloves or running his fingers through her hair. The more he reached out toward her, to show he wasn't afraid of her power, the more she pushed him away. Their relationship was deteriorating fast; soon, something would have to give.

After making eye contact, Kitty broke it. She looked straight ahead, figuring that she'd probably blushed, but tried her hardest to remain stoic. However, try as she might, she couldn't suppress the smile from spreading across her face. Even though (she assumed) Bobby hadn't intended it, Kitty had begun to find this outing rather romantic.

The teenagers made what must have been their twentieth lap around the fountain. Kitty, who was on the outside track, put on a bit of extra speed, intending to start a race. She surprised Bobby sufficiently that she opened a lead of half a lap before he could react, but she soon heard the scrape of his skates increase in frequency. Impishly she spun and stuck her tongue out at him, trying to entice him to catch her.

Kitty had barely turned back around to widen her lead when she felt Bobby grab her hand. Both of them were laughing by this point as Bobby took the lead. He held onto Kitty's hand even after he'd completed the pass, to the point that her arm was fully extended, until he heard Kitty yelp in what he thought was pain. Not wanting to harm his skating partner, Bobby braked. Physics, in the form of angular momentum combined with a lack of friction, brought Kitty whirling in a much smaller and much faster circle than the one she'd been in. Though she tied to brake, she still felt her balance falter. Her free arm shot out to test the shock of the coming impact, and Kitty prepared to phase.

Instead, Bobby pulled on her arm, bringing Kitty into his center of gravity. He caught her other arm and shifted his own balance to absorb the impact. Clasping one another, the young mutants spun sedately to a stop. Their eyes locked, lingered a few beats as they panted from exertion. Kitty's tongue appeared briefly to moisten her lips.

What both teenagers noticed most prominently was how warm the other's hand felt in their own. Bobby felt his hand tingling with the sensation of actually touching a girl's hand, tingling as if he'd just hit his funny bone, tingling with the intensity of the half-dozen habanera peppers he'd eaten once on a dare from John. Her skin felt unbelievably soft in his hand, while her other arm seemed so slender, so fragile, with his hand wrapped around the forearm. The thought, Perhaps ignorance really is bliss, passed through his mind.

Kitty trembled all over. Bobby's hand was surprisingly warm to the touch as their fingers interlaced - warmer, at any rate, than the night air over their impromptu skating rink. Her stomach seemed to be filled to the brim with rioting butterflies, as it often did around Bobby. She fervently hoped that Bobby couldn't feel her heart racing through her hand or forearm; his grip was certainly strong enough, but still gentle enough not to hurt her. Kitty knew she was glowing bright red by this point.

The earlier comfortable silence dissipated, leaving in its wake a strange discomfort of heightened perception. Bobby himself focused on her deep brown, almost black eyes, eyes that seemed to have no bottom, drawing him inexorably toward her. He dimly noted Kitty's lips parted just a bit as she breathed, their soft pink color accentuated by the tendril of dark hair cascading down her cheek.

Kitty floated upward toward the much-taller Bobby, drawn by his bright blue irises – her nickname for him happened to be "Bright Eyes," and he had responded to that nickname by occasionally singing Bonnie Tyler. His gaze was so intense right now that Kitty felt as if she'd been physically struck by a sledgehammer. As she closed the distance, a back corner of her brain compared her to a moth hypnotized by flame.

Bobby's brain finally caught up with what his body was doing, and he braked his approach. Kitty blinked rapidly, as if to clear her mind. She tossed her head slightly, flipping her bangs out of her eyes. Bobby gritted his teeth, kicking himself for causing that close call. I hope that Rogue is fast asleep by now, he thought.

Kitty let the moment finish passing before she finally broke the silence. "Thank you for this, Bobby," she told him, trying to convey her earnest appreciation for his efforts to cheer her up. She gave him a grateful smile.

Bobby started to grin ear to ear at his success, but changed his mind, not wanting to charm her the way his smile was wont to do, and settled for a tight smile. "Sure thing, Kitty. I… just now…"

Kitty chucked her thumb at the mansion. "Let's get inside," she suggested, trying to avoid any further awkwardness for the moment.

Bobby nodded in agreement, and they skated off the fountain, keeping about a foot of air in between them. Unfortunately, unknown to them, Bobby's wish had been in vain; their encounter had been witnessed from afar by a certain untouchable girl with the white streak in her hair.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Bobby, ever the gentleman, walked Kitty back to her room. After a quick glance around, he relaxed. "I think our return has gone unnoticed."

"Mostly unnoticed," Kitty corrected him.

"Mostly unnoticed?" Bobby replied dubiously. His moment of relaxation vanished.

Kitty's dark eyes twinkled with mischief. "There's a big difference between 'mostly unnoticed' and 'totally unnoticed'," she explained in an affected Jewish accent – the sort she'd heard at family gatherings for years.

Bobby chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief that she'd just referenced Princess Bride and he'd missed it. "You totally nailed Billy Crystal's Miracle Max."

She shrugged incrementally. "Most of my older male relatives are dead ringers."

Kitty opened her door, choosing not to simply phase through, but she found herself lingering in the doorway and looking up at Bobby as if she expected something. A goodnight kiss, maybe? the cynical part of her brain wondered.

For his part, Bobby couldn't bear to break the moment. He had truly enjoyed their outing – it wasn't a date, he told himself firmly – and didn't want it to be over yet. He scratched the back of his head absently.

Kitty tucked a strand of hair behind her ear; when she touched her hair, her face crinkled a bit as she felt how it needed washing. She was acutely aware of Bobby's gaze and hoped he picked up on the nonverbal cue. To his credit, he took a step back, initiating what he'd heard called "the goodnight process."

"Thank you again, Bobby. I feel… a little better."

He raised an eyebrow. "Only a little?"

She nodded, her mouth forming a small smile. "It might take a while before I feel all better."

Bobby's girl-melting smile started to form. "I'm glad I could help. I hate seeing you – or any girl, really – crying."

He's so sweet, Kitty thought, and Rogue's so lucky to have him. She flushed slightly at the thought – such a cute blush that Bobby couldn't help but notice – and resolved to end this encounter before it lingered beyond the point of discomfort. "Good night, Bobby," she bade him, her voice soft, demure.

Bobby nodded, understanding. "Good night, Kitty. See you tomorrow."

She closed the door slowly, hesitantly, but closed it nonetheless. Bobby looked at the shut door for a few moments before heading for his room. He ambled down the old-yet-recently-refurbished halls of the second floor, fighting the urge to whistle out of consideration for the others asleep.

That urge swiftly evaporated, however, when he encountered a Rogue-shaped roadblock halfway to his room. He stopped short in surprise, nervous once he noticed Rogue's acidic glare. The word "hydrochloric" darted through his mind.

Before Bobby could say anything, Rogue stated in a flat tone, "You've never taken me skatin'."

Bobby paled slightly, his worst fear confirmed; now he could only hope to perform damage control. What he led with, he later reflected, was likely the lamest thing he could have said: "Rogue, it's not what you think."

Rogue's left eyebrow rose; her voice grew icy. "I didn't know the Professor'd been givin' you lessons in telepathy."

"Secondary mutation," Bobby shot back, immediately regretting doing so. He took a calming breath that partially consisted of an exasperated sigh. "Are you gonna hear me out or not?"

Rogue shrugged. "I guess I might as well, unless you've got another romantic ice-related date up your sleeve." Bobby noticed, being an expert on cold, the emotional temperature drop even further, though he hadn't thought it possible.

Setting his jaw, Bobby determined to tell his side of the story and hope that Rogue would believe him – and, more importantly, forgive him. He estimated his chances of success to be practically nil. "Rogue," he used her name gently, soothingly, "it wasn't like that at all. I heard Kitty crying after dinner, for hours, so I decided to talk to her, try to cheer her up."

"Y'all weren't doin' much talkin' that I saw, just tongue-wrestlin'." She spat out the last word in much the same way that the spitting cobra launches its venom.

Bobby's eyes narrowed. "We didn't –"

"How could you?" Rogue interjected quickly, cutting him off. She tended to grow quieter as she grew angrier. "How could you cheat on me… with that… that little… floozy!"

Now Bobby was becoming angry as well. He barely restrained himself from yelling when he said, "Kitty's one of your best friends! How could you call her that?"

"One of your best friends, you mean." She shook her head, looking at the wall to deprive Bobby of eye contact. "I've seen the way she looks at you – the same way I used to."

Bobby blinked, taken aback. "Rogue… what are you saying?"

Rogue leveled her near-Cyclopean gaze at him. "I'm sayin' we're through, Bobby. You betrayed me."

"But we didn't kiss – did not." By this point his teeth were grinding together, and only the fact that his powers granted him permanent homeostasis kept his face from reddening with anger (or anything else, for that matter). His arm moved sideways to emphasize his next words: "I would never cheat on you, Rogue, never."

Rogue looked down; her shoulders slumped. "Even if I believe that y'all didn't kiss," she quasi-conceded, "I don't think I can deal with y'all havin' one near-kiss, and I can't help but think y'all will have more of them. And it's only a matter of time before your willpower fails." She looked back up at him, her eyes filled with dread certainty.

Bobby felt as if a chunk of adamantium had plummeted into the pit of his stomach, because she didn't trust him and likely never would. At that moment, a memory from a few days ago bubbled to the forefront of his mind: Rogue telling him that, because he was a guy, there was only one thing ever on his mind. Frantically his mind worked, seeking a solution to salvage the situation. Vainly, too, it seemed.

"Rogue… I didn't mean to… hurt you," he whispered hoarsely, his throat squeezing itself closed. "I just… wanted to help Kitty… stop crying for a little while."

Rogue's lip trembled. "By remindin' me of what I have but can't hold?" Her eyes shone in the dim light of the hallway. "By makin' me cry instead?"

Bobby's head dropped in defeat. "I never wanted to make you cry, honest. I care for you… a lot," he told her earnestly. He couldn't say the L-word, not now – Rogue would think it a final, desperate attempt to prevent this breakup. Scary thing is, thought Bobby, I'm not sure it wouldn't be.

"I care for you too, Bobby. That's why I'm so hurt by what happened," she explained. Her voice took on a wistful, far-away quality. "I gotta let you go… so you can give your heart and soul to a gal who deserves it." Here she smirked fractionally, adding, "Not to mention your gorgeous body to a gal who can appreciate it."

Bobby's mouth threatened to quirk into a smile, despite the fact that he was fighting tears. He wasn't sure how he was still standing – he felt like he'd been filleted boneless. Rogue's sigh reclaimed his attention. "Ironic, I guess, that I gotta let you go, from this relationship."

"How so?"

"Usually when I let go of someone, it's to keep me from hurtin' them with my powers. In this case…" Her voice wavered, and Bobby had to stop himself from wrapping her in his arms. "In this case, I gotta let you go so I don't get hurt, and you can be happy without me."

The lump that had formed in Bobby's throat while Rogue was explaining herself refused to let itself be swallowed. "Entirely without you?" he rasped. "I would hope – one day, once we're able – to be friends again."

Rogue nodded, and her mouth curled ever-so-slightly. "Maybe it won't be too long… I'd like that."

With that, it was over – the storm blew over as quickly as it had arisen. Silence reigned an oppressive – but thankfully brief – reign.

Bobby licked his lips, unsure if the particular gamble he was about to take would be worthwhile, or merely foolish. "Lemme walk you back to your room… for old times' sake?"

His now-ex-girlfriend shook her head, the white streak in her hair shimmering as it caught the light just so. "N-no thanks. I need to… be alone right now." When Bobby's lips pursed at the irony of her statement, hers did likewise. Rogue turned around and headed for her room, not quite running; she disappeared into the dark of the midnight hallway and left an emotionally-drained Bobby Drake behind – for good.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Bobby lay awake in his bed, futilely pursuing sleep. In his mind he kept reliving the conversation with Rogue, wondering if there might have been some way to avoid a breakup – something he'd said or not said, something he'd done (besides nearly kissing Kitty) or not done (not taking Rogue skating instead? she probably would have refused), something he could have done differently. Each line of thought, however, seemed to lead to the same conclusion, or leave him blank; and that was the most frustrating part of all.

He climbed out of bed and meandered downstairs for a midnight snack; between his teenage-male metabolism and the ice-skating, he'd worked up quite an appetite. His stomach grumbled as he entered the kitchen. A few minutes' rummaging produced some Rold's Gold pretzels and a Dr. Pepper. Unbidden, the memory of his first real introduction to "the Wolverine" sprung to mind: after speed-chilling Logan's bottle of 23 flavors, the Canadian had proceeded to give him the third degree regarding him and Rogue. He remembered being scared witless, afraid that the hairy, snarly fellow might gut him as a warning to other potential suitors for the Southern belle.

Bobby plopped down onto the couch. There would be no need for Logan's protective services now, he thought – a thought which brought the young man back to where he'd started.

Upstairs in her room, Kitty couldn't sleep either, not with the butterflies still rioting in her stomach from earlier that night. Despite her usual tendency to luxuriate in warm showers, tonight she'd showered quickly in cool water in an attempt to prevent herself from getting so worked up that she couldn't sleep until she'd masturbated. No stranger to self-pleasure, Kitty nonetheless strove to keep her sessions to a minimum, performing only when absolutely necessary. The young woman tossed and turned, wholly unable to get comfortable, and she briefly entertained the thought of looking under the mattress for any peas.

Finally, after nearly half an hour, Kitty gave up on sleep for the time being, but that left the question of what she should do instead. Since practically everyone else in the mansion was asleep, she couldn't do anything too noisy and would likely have to be alone. She settled on playing Halo downstairs with her headphones on – her alter-ego "Ariel the Sprite" hadn't been on Xbox Live in a few weeks, and she didn't want her blue-and-yellow Master Chief to fall too far in the rankings.

Once she was downstairs and saw Bobby sitting on the couch, however, she postponed her date with the Master Chief in favor of the Iceman.

For the sake of seeing Bobby's reaction, Kitty phased through the back of the couch and sat down; he always seemed so weirded out by her powers that she made a point of using them around him as often as possible. This time, though, her efforts were in vain because Bobby didn't even notice her right away. Making the most of this opportunity to study his profile up close, Kitty concluded that Bobby was only present in body at the moment. She found herself hoping that he was thinking about her, but she doubted that his mind could be occupied like this by anyone other than Rogue.

Rather than dwell on that idea, Kitty called Bobby's name; since he had not seen her sit down, he hopped off the cushion about two inches, which jostled the half-eaten bowl of pretzels he was holding, which in turn tossed the pretzels out of the bowl and onto the couch. His arms flailed, nearly knocking over his Dr. Pepper. Kitty refrained from giggling… until she saw the look on Bobby's face when he turned toward her. I think that was better than his reaction to my phasing, she mused, on the verge of cracking up entirely.

Bobby just shook his head, mortified that she'd spooked him like that, and his attempted 'why-you-little' glare couldn't faze her. He was surprised, however, by the rare sight of Kitty without her makeup and in her pajamas – usually, once she'd showered, Kitty didn't leave her room until the next morning, unless there was a dire emergency. Since the opportunity presented itself, he filed away into his memory that Kitty wore a 'Hello Kitty' ensemble – probably an inside joke he wasn't privy to – consisting of a pink tanktop with the eponymous feline on the front and full-length bottoms festooned with representations of the feline's bows in multiple colors.

Pulling his eyes up towards her face, the young man found himself noticing just how the lamplight glinted off Kitty's eyes, making them sparkle – despite her likely protests to the contrary, she really didn't need much eye shadow or eye liner. Her white teeth peeked out between her carnation lips. Her long, dark hair hung loose to frame her face and cascade down her shoulders, and Bobby wondered why she didn't wear it down more often.

Kitty's giggling fit subsided, and the young woman found herself under Bobby's scrutiny. She felt the heat rise to burn like a beacon from her cheeks. For a moment she panicked – Why is he looking at me like that oh God his gaze is so intense calm down calm down Kitty get a grip! She utilized her embarrassment to note Bobby's sleep wear – a tight, white tanktop known as a 'wife-beater' (neither teen particularly cared for the term) and a pair of navy blue athletic shorts. Kitty had to admit that the tanktop perfectly accentuated Bobby's physique, highlighting his firm-looking pecs and broad shoulders. Her panic started to transform into… something else entirely.

Taking one breath to settle down, she decided to engage Bobby in conversation, just so he wouldn't look at her like that any longer – or, heaven forbid, unleash that smile of his. "Why are you still up?" she began. "You don't strike me as the 'midnight snack' type."

Bobby shook his head and started gathering the scattered pretzels. "I couldn't sleep," he responded simply, not quite sure how much he wanted to tell Kitty at the moment.

Kitty licked her lips; her intuition screamed that something was seriously amiss. "Same here," she agreed. "You're not taking your turn at being upset about the Professor, are you?"

Again Bobby shook his head. "I don't think it's had time to really sink in yet." With a wry smirk, he added, "Did my anti-grief measures from earlier wear off this quick?"

Now it was Kitty's turn to shake her head, as well as to fret over how to explain her insomnia. "I think the adrenaline from skating with you earlier hasn't worn off yet," she half-lied.

Finished collecting pretzels, Bobby put the bowl on the coffee table beside his sweating bottle of soda. He froze, figuratively speaking; something in Kitty's voice just then, or her word choice, seemed to bear investigating. "You got a rush," he asked incredulously, "from such a leisurely skate?"

Terrified she'd been busted, Kitty looked down. Best be honest now, she resigned to herself. "Yeah, well… it was a lot of fun – just what I needed to cheer up." Kitty paused to steel herself for what she was about to say. "Then there was… y'know… that moment, at the end."

Bobby broke tradition and nodded this time. "I'm sorry about that. Totally my fault."

Kitty swallowed; she now faced the moment of truth. "Actually, it was partly my fault too, and I'm really sorry. I know you're with Rogue, and I was outta line for even holding your hand." She glanced up at him, a feeling of foreboding suddenly washing over her.

Bobby reached up to the back of his head to scratch it. Kitty knew him well enough to identify that gesture as a sign of nerves, and she could tell that whatever he was nervous about now would be big news. Squaring his shoulders, Bobby elected to come right out and tell her: "Actually, Rogue and I were together – past tense. That's why I couldn't sleep."

Kitty took several moments to process what Bobby told her. On one hand, she was dismayed that she'd been right earlier as to the subject of his thoughts; on the other, a glimmer of hope stirred within her because Bobby was now single, available, on the market, fair game. Further complicating matters were the hurt she could sense the young man feeling and her genuine sympathy for him – she truly didn't like seeing him hurt, and she kicked herself for not noticing the pain in his eyes sooner. Kitty resolved not to pick Bobby up 'on the rebound,' but instead to simply offer a listening ear and see how things developed from there.

Her hand found its way to Bobby's bicep, where it rested lightly, able to be removed at the slightest hint that it was unwelcome. "Oh God, I'm so sorry," she told him – and she meant it. "What happened?"

Over the next few minutes, Bobby recapped the argument he'd had with Rogue earlier, leading up to the point where Rogue had dumped him. As he spoke, he found it tougher and tougher to continue in the face of his throat constricting and his eyes watering. Bobby internally kicked himself for showing himself such a pansy in front of Kitty, certain that after this display she'd think less of him.

Nothing could have been further from the truth, though; Kitty admired him for not being too macho to show his feelings. Further, making himself vulnerable to her like this only endeared him to her – since the Iceman rarely showed his emotions, he made her feel special by sharing them with her. She knew from her conversations with Rogue that their relationship had had nearly as many emotional barriers as physical.

A twinge of guilt shot through her: it was partly, perhaps mostly, her fault that Bobby and Rogue broke up. What if he blames me? What if he hates me now? she asked herself, starting to panic again. Kitty gritted her teeth, willing the fear away – Bobby reserved his hate for one person only, a certain fire-manipulating former friend.

Only one way to find out, she decided. "You don't blame me, do you? If you do, I totally understand…"

"No way, Kit-Kat – I can't blame you for Rogue's insecurities, any more than I blame her for her powers keeping us apart," Bobby answered firmly. Kitty's hand resting on his arm began to generate that odd tingling sensation again. To distract himself, but not wanting to break contact, he wiped his eyes with the other hand. "Don't you dare blame yourself, either," he warned her, fixing her with an intense gaze to show his earnestness. "This breakup was a long time coming."

"I'm still sorry for serving as the catalyst," she amended, giving him a look that told him she wouldn't blame herself. Bobby reciprocated with a heartfelt, grateful smile.

Bobby found himself flatfooted when Kitty's hand moved up to his shoulder before tracing – accidentally, he supposed – across to the other side of his neck. Her other arm came across his chest to join the other; her chin soon rested atop his vacant shoulder. Suddenly he was struck by the sense of Kitty's nearness – her breath brushing his neck, her hair tickling his bicep and tricep, her warm skin pressing against selective portions of his. Even after that shamefully unmanly display, he marveled, she remains – she likes you.

Acting on impulse – one he may not have followed under other circumstances – he pushed Kitty back just a bit, creating enough space for him to lean in and kiss her.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

That smile, Kitty later reflected, was what did her in. What began as a friendly, comforting hug changed tenor when Bobby pulled back to plant a firm kiss on her lips. His lips were so delicious, she couldn't pull away.

The teenagers surprised one another after only a moment or two. Tentatively their tongues explored, darting along the other's lips; when the teens' tongues touched, the contact was brief, glancing, just enough for taste buds to rub and let them sample each other's taste. To Kitty, Bobby tasted of butter, salt, and cherry-hinted cola; to Bobby, Kitty tasted as if they both preferred the same cinnamon-flavored toothpaste.

Gingerly Bobby reached up to cup Kitty's cheek; he marveled at how warm it felt to his fingers, how smooth her skin was. The brief tremor that passed over her body did not pass unnoticed, nor did the hitch in her breathing when her skin touched his. When she moved her head to nuzzle his palm without breaking the kiss, he responded by flexing his fingers to provide more pressure, more contact just below her temple. His other hand rested on her knee.

A small sigh escaped through Kitty's nose; she decided she wanted to touch him as well. Her petite hands bracketed Bobby's neck before beginning an expedition across his broad, toned shoulders. Her hands left in their wake what felt like an army of crawling caterpillars – a sensation both pleasant and a little uncomfortable. The pounding of her heart drowned out all other sound.

Emboldened, Bobby let his hand glide toward the back of her head, his fingers burying themselves between Kitty's brunette strands. Usually Kitty was rather skittish about people touching her hair, but at this moment she relished the feeling of fingers skimming through her locks. The pinky-edge of his palm brushed along the curve of her ear, triggering a shiver straight down her spine until his hand rested on her shoulder.

Dimly Kitty felt herself growing warmer all over and knew she was becoming aroused. The fabric of her tanktop now rubbed against her stiffened nipples in a most distracting fashion. Ignoring the part of her brain screaming for her stop – or at least slow down – Kitty instead raked her fingertips down Bobby's chest. The way his pecs twitched in response was nothing short of thrilling.

Bobby deepened the kiss further; no longer was the contact between their tongues furtive or fleeting, but continuous. Both of his hands slipped under her arms, encircling her and roaming up and down her back. Their combined balance reached its tipping point, until they both fell – a controlled fall, but a fall nonetheless – back onto the couch.

The teenagers paused, lips still locked. Bobby was lying atop Kitty, but her hip was digging into his stomach. A bit of squirming resulted only in a moment of stark realization for the teens: Kitty wasn't the only one currently aroused, for which she was relieved, maybe even elated. Bobby, on the other hand, felt momentarily chagrined, until he noticed that whatever he was pressed against was even warmer than the rest of Kitty.

Both of them trembled as they resumed kissing. Bobby pressed himself closer, and Kitty responded in kind. Her hands slid down his back, accompanied by a shiver down the young man's spine. His hands moved to her sides, cautious of the young woman's breasts; with the slightest curl of his fingers, the tips followed the contours of her ribs, eliciting a stifled moan.

Aggressively – thus an unusual mode for Kitty – the young woman reached down to grab with both hands Bobby's rear. Even through two layers of fabric, she could feel the rock-hardness – or rather, the ice-hardness – that came from his favorite sport, basketball. Kitty kneaded the muscle in delight; she knew Bobby enjoyed the sensation when he ground his groin against hers.

Meanwhile, Bobby's hands were just as active, sneaking beneath the hem of Kitty's tanktop to caress the narrow stripe of exposed midriff. The tip of his thumb circled her navel while the other fingers again raked lightly over her ribs. The skidding-washboard sensation was increased tenfold – in the perceptions of both parties – because of the directness of the contact, not to mention the proximity of Kitty's breasts.

Kitty decided that she wanted her hands against Bobby's skin with no intermediary cloth. Thus her hands dove under the stretchy material of the 'beater' to revel in the young man's defined – but certainly not 'bulging' – musculature, her left hand on the chest, her right on the back. She raked her fingers along his skin to give Bobby a taste of his own medicine, and she now noticed the young man's heavy breathing, his chest cavity expanding and contracting beneath her palms.

Still kissing – though their activity at this point might better be labeled "tongue-wrestling" – both teenagers basked in the glow of firing one another's tactile sensory neurons. The timbre of the situation shifted, however, when Bobby let his hands wander upward to cup Kitty's breasts. Her back arched almost immediately, thrusting her chest into his palms, eagerly seeking more of this novel contact. In the process, the bottom edge of her tanktop rode up from Bobby's wrists to his knuckles.

The young man marveled at the suppleness of the flesh he now held. The orbs he found firm yet yielding; if a bit on the small side, they seemed quite sensitive. Experimentally he skimmed his thumb along the exposed surfaces until he reached the stiffened tip. Kitty promptly rewarded him with a strangled yelp and a full-body twitch. Both teens dimly noted that their lips were now only loosely pressed together, allowing them to inhale greater quantities of much-needed oxygen.

Not wanting, not daring to lose momentum, Kitty tugged down both the athletic shorts and the underwear Bobby wore. From the feel of the waistband she guessed that Bobby was wearing boxers, probably the softer all-cotton variety instead of the coarser cotton-blend type. To her initial dismay, only the rear portion followed her pull; the forward section was hung up, sandwiched between her body and his, interposed, interdicting. Kitty contented herself with touching the surprisingly-soft skin of Bobby's derriere.

Two sets of eyelids lifted like curtains raised to let in the sun. Blue eyes met brown, both shining with an unfamiliar but not-incomprehensible light. For a moment, their hands, their breath, their hearts – and perhaps the whole world besides – stopped.

"Bobby," she whispered, her voice pleading, yearning.

"Kitty," he whispered, his voice reflecting hers but adding just the barest hint of uncertainty.

Kitty licked her lips. Bobby swallowed. Something in their brains clicked into place, and they knew. Instinctively, they understood.

Once more, Bobby and Kitty locked lips. Bobby lifted his hips so Kitty could get the front of his shorts and boxers down, a feat she accomplished only after freeing the garments from the young man's impromptu coat-hook. Kitty wrapped her petite hand around what felt like a huge, throbbing pole; it thrilled her when Bobby spasmed.

In fact, Kitty's grasp nearly forced Bobby to jump right out of his skin. Her hand felt so incredibly soft, so wonderfully warm, that he was thankful she didn't yet dare to stroke him. When he took his turn at tugging on Kitty's pajama bottoms and panties, she eagerly arched her hips to free her clothing from the constraints of gravity and friction. Bobby's arms were only long enough to pull the garments to Kitty's knees, but she obligingly took over for him by wiggling her legs until the nightclothes gathered at her ankles.

Bobby's hand snaked its way down Kitty's bare stomach, exploring, drawing ever closer to the hub of her arousal. A patch of short, curly hair – surprisingly soft to the touch – arrested his hand's descent. While he took a few moments to run his fingers through the hair, Kitty – glad that she'd performed her weekly maintenance earlier in the shower – grazed her fingertips around the shaft she was holding. She felt it twitch from her attentions and felt her nub throb in anticipation of a similar caress. Bobby didn't disappoint: his deft fingers stroked her nether lips, which were coated in slick liquid. Seemingly of their own accord, those lips peeled apart, exposing Kitty's nub to Bobby's questing touch, a touch that launched a thunderbolt of sensation throughout her entire nervous system. Her whole body jerked.

The teenagers continued to stimulate one another's most sensitive areas. Swiftly their arousal built until noises of pleasure arose from deep within. Through their still-locked lips, though, the noises were emitted as mere whimpers.

Neither of them would have clear memory of what happened next – or, more accurately, of how exactly "the event" (as they later called it) transpired. Kitty only remembered inhaling sharply, her eyes shooting open as something inside her was breached. A spike of pain lasted only momentarily, replaced by a glorious sensation of fullness. For his part, Bobby thought he remembered Kitty pulling his erection toward her, until the tip made contact with the slippery softness of her spread-open privates. On the other hand, he knew he would never forget the initial feeling of being enveloped within the tight, smoldering wetness that was Kitty.

The pair lay still, savoring the sensations of the moment. Both were shocked, awed, flabbergasted to feel the other's heartbeat – Bobby swelled and contracted with Kitty, Kitty clenched and released Bobby. Their lips briefly separated again to permit a scant handful of deep breaths with which to fuel the concluding stretch of their activity.

Purely on instinct, the two young people began to move, to dance the oldest dance known to humanity – a small token of commonality that they, as mutants, could share. Kitty wrapped her arms around the young man and, in a surprising show of strength, pulled him closer to her. Bobby's hands clung to Kitty's hips as they established a rhythm together. Their lips rejoined.

The pleasure they felt, the pleasure they gave each other, thoroughly overwhelmed them. For a time, all too brief, their bodies moved together as one, consumed in the heat of passion. Far too soon for either of them, they felt their respective climaxes grow imminent.

Kitty peaked first. Her hips lifted off the couch, breaking the established rhythm. A number of muffled grunts emanated from the corners of her mouth. Her grip on Bobby tightened – both her arms and elsewhere.

Bobby soon followed suit, Kitty's noises and movements driving him over the edge. He groaned into his partner's mouth as his climax evicted the breath from his lungs. His whole body stiffened, paralyzed – with the exception of his member, the pulsations of which signaled his release inside Kitty.

Moments passed in silence. Once more the teens pulled themselves out of their kiss; this time, they pulled away further. Their eyes, however, remained locked as the reality of what just occurred began to settle.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

A scant few ticks of the clock saw the glowing post-coital moment lingering over the teens before finally collapsing like an iridescent soap bubble when it encounters a child's finger.

Simultaneously, both of them started scrambling back as if scalded. Kitty pulled her top down while Bobby yanked his shorts and boxers up, with the realization that he'd likely never wear them again since they would probably be blood-stained. He turned away so Kitty could adjust her bottoms – as though she might think less of him for looking at her groin after they'd had sex. Nonetheless, Kitty appreciated the gesture, promptly returning herself to a fully-clothed state.

Kitty sat up, presenting her profile to Bobby, a profile which he fought not to stare at so he might memorize every minute detail. She pulled her knees under her chin so she could wrap her arms around her shins. With a sigh she rested her chin on her knees. A dull ache announced itself from between her thighs, causing her to shift slightly on the couch. In the course of her movements she noticed two things: first, she felt Bobby's sticky semen deep inside her, cooler than her still-warm vagina; second, her panties felt as if they were freshly moistened.

Therefore, like Bobby, she presumed that her underwear was blood-stained to the point that she'd never wear them again. Unlike Bobby – who feared the potential consequences of the wrong person finding blood-stained boxers in his room or the laundry – Kitty thought she might keep her blotted garment as a memento. The Red Badge of… Indiscretion? she asked herself ruefully.

Meanwhile, Bobby hung his head, his face buried in his hands. To some extent, he was merely trying to keep his head from literally spinning the way it felt as though it might. His thoughts whirled: How could I… how could we… Kitty and I just… had sex. He looked up suddenly as a new realization surfaced: I took her virginity… we're not dating… I didn't even ask! Slowly his head turned towards his erstwhile partner; at the same time, she turned to face him.

Both of them swallowed, unsure how to proceed. Kitty knew her cheeks were glowing red because she could feel them burning. For his part, Bobby almost wished he could flush, so that Kitty might not feel as if she were alone in her embarrassment. The silence, which had been awkward from the start, worsened.

Steeling himself, Bobby struggled in search of the right words for the situation. He cleared his throat and broke the ice, ignoring for the time being the irony of having to do so. "Kitty… did we just… do what I think we did?"

Nodding slowly constituted her initial response. "Yeah, Bobby… we did. We… had sex." Kitty flushed even as she said the words. There, I said it, she told herself resolutely.

Bobby's mouth quirked to one side in what he hoped was an expression conveying sympathy. "Kitty, please, please believe me when I say that I never meant for that to happen."

The young woman's face stretched into a lopsided smile. "I know, Bobby. You're not that kind of guy, to use a breakup on purpose… to get into a girl's pants." She cleared her throat. "I know you weren't planning it… because you didn't use protection."

Bobby tried not to panic at that, and didn't succeed particularly well. "No… I wasn't… I didn't… you're not on the pill?"

Kitty simply shook her head. "All of them wreak havoc with my hormones, make me borderline manic-depressive." Her hand drifted to her stomach – or possibly to her seeded womb. "As for… this… let's cross that bridge if we come to it."

Bobby digested that for a few moments before continuing: "Although I didn't plan it, it still happened… and I'm really sorry for that." His lips pressed together. "Especially… for our first…"

Kitty snorted softly. "Yeah, that was nothing like I'd imagined." When Bobby's countenance fell, she added hastily, "I mean, it wasn't slow or romantic… more like two atoms in a particle accelerator." A raised eyebrow from the young man prompted her to elaborate: "The atoms collide at high speed, generating a lot of energy – light and heat – but the reaction ends pretty quickly."

Bemused, Bobby replied, "Thanks for the science lesson. It was kinda like that, huh?" Kitty giggled and nodded, but he added, "For what it's worth, it was nothing like I imagined either. I can't even begin to describe it."

"Me neither," Kitty responded. "It's all a blur – a pleasant blur."

With that opening, Bobby asked the one question he thought most important to ask: "So... you don't regret it… right?"

At that moment, Kitty felt certain her heart stopped. "W-well… n-not exactly," she stammered. "I, ah, I guess not… entirely."

Bobby could do nothing but hang his head in shame. A dull ache in his jaw warned him that he might throw up, because Kitty regretted it – because he'd stolen something irreplaceable from her.

Biting her lip, Kitty scooted closer to Bobby, who she could tell took her answer hard. "Look, Bobby… at the time, I did enjoy it… immensely. But now… I'm a little sore… and…"

She took a deep breath. This isn't gonna be easy, she realized. "You gotta admit, the timing was terrible. The funeral earlier, your breakup – you're basically on the rebound, Bobby – and all the tension from this Cure stuff…"

Slowly Bobby nodded, understanding what Kitty meant by 'bad timing'. "I… we… really jumped the gun. I mean, we're not even dating… yet." Immediately Bobby kicked himself for adding that last word.

The reason for the young man to rue his word choice arose from the paling of Kitty's face. Her words, when they emerged from her lips, confirmed Bobby's doubts. "We can't, Bobby, not right now. You're still on the rebound, remember?" She licked her lips, trembling at the difficulty of refusing the opportunity she'd dreamt of, yearned for, even prayed about. "All the reasons I gave earlier," she said aloud, for both their sakes, "about bad timing… apply to us starting a relationship as much as they did, or should have done, to us… having sex."

Bobby's limbs seemed suddenly heavy, as if coated in quick-drying cement to pull him to the bottom of a lake or river to 'sleep with the fishes'. "Of course, Kitty, you're right," he managed. He turned away, unable to face her glittering brown eyes any longer. "I shouldn't have… presumed that… after tonight… we'd, um, start something more."

"You're not listening," the young woman chided. "Tonight wasn't a good choice for 'when'; the living room couch may or may not have been the best choice of 'where'." She found herself remarking inwardly, Hell of a story to tell the nosy cousins, though.

Both teens were surprised when Kitty ruffled her fingers through Bobby's blond hair. His attention captive, he faced her squarely when she told him, "I'd always hoped, though, that you'd be the one I gave my virginity to." She gave him a soft smile, a warm smile like a late-spring afternoon that nearly melted the Iceman right then and there.

Gently Bobby took her hand; the word 'gave' rang in his ears, quelling any lingering doubts about Kitty's feelings toward him. "In time, maybe, we can give 'us' a try – is that what I'm hearing?" He also favored her with a soft smile.

Kitty flushed and bounced her head twice. "In the meantime, we shouldn't… do this again, not if we aren't official."

Smirking, Bobby gave her a mock salute. "We'll probably wanna keep… tonight… a secret, as well. The rumor mill around here is absolutely brutal." Kitty nodded in agreement

Glancing at the clock, Kitty realized that they'd stayed up rather late, and she guessed that (given their activities) her erstwhile partner was likely as exhausted as she was. With a playful bat of her eyelashes, she asked, "Would you walk me to my room, good sir?"

"Of course," he agreed, eager to salvage his reputation as a gentleman. For the second time that night, he walked the petite brunette to her room.

Prior to entering, she lingered to look into Bobby's eyes, embarrassed and frustrated at her own embarrassment. Just ask him! commanded the pushy part of her brain. You can't possibly be shy around the guy you just did it with!

As if on cue, the young man prompted her. "What is it, Kit-Kat?"

"Would you think less of me," she began demurely, "if I asked for a kiss goodnight?"

Bobby couldn't help but grin. Rather than signal his answer with a head-shake, he leaned down and gave her a chaste kiss on the lips. He'd considered – and rejected – targeting her hand or her forehead, opting instead for what he knew she meant for him to kiss.

The kiss they shared was necessarily brief, yet still somehow electrifying, standing the hairs on the back of each of their necks on end. Shortly, before things could go haywire again, Kitty backed away first, phasing through her door; the last Bobby saw of her was her eyes and smile. Once inside, she fell into her bed and promptly boarded the train to Dreamland.

"Good night, Cheshire Kat," whispered Bobby to no one present. His return to his room remained unchallenged this time. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he drifted off into a deep, restful sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Dawn broke over 1407 Greymalkin Lane. The grand mansion began to stir with activity, despite the calendar's claim that it was Saturday. After the Professor's funeral, Storm and Wolverine put the X-Men trainees – Colossus, Iceman, Shadowcat, and Rogue – on high alert, and called a meeting to discuss the school's future. Before the meeting, though, two of the trainees needed to prepare for the day…

Bobby woke up to the raspy voice of Van Morrison coming from his radio, which he kept tuned to the 'oldies' station. John – no, Bobby corrected himself, he preferred to call himself "Pyro" now – used to tease him about his musical preferences, but his parents had met at Woodstock as teenagers, two decades before Bobby, the elder brother, made his entrance onto the world stage – and Bobby had always felt a connection to the music of that era.

Sitting up slowly, he felt the last vestiges of sleep drain away. As consciousness finally clicked into gear, the song caught his attention fully: Van Morrison sang about a brown-eyed girl, about waterfalls and misty fog and lovemaking on the green grass. Immediately Bobby slammed the radio off, the memories of the previous night confronting him. Maybe it was only a dream, he hoped.

The young man pulled down his boxers, examining them for evidence of his transgression. His breathing grew shallow when he saw a small rust-brown stain on the inside of his boxers along with slight discoloration down the length of his morning wood. The line from the song about lovemaking drifted into his mind's ear, reminding him of how Kitty felt with him inside her, of how she tasted as they kissed, of how her freshly-shampooed hair smelled of apples. A near-overwhelming urge to stroke himself arose, but he managed to suppress it.

Instead, Bobby pulled the stained underwear off and put on a new pair. What to do with this pair? he wondered. The boxers, unfortunately, were his favorite pair, a pair emblazoned with the Celtics logo. (As a good Bostonian basketball fan, he bled Celtic green.)

Ultimately, he decided he couldn't throw away his favorite boxers and put them into his laundry basket, tucking them under some shirts. He headed into his bathroom for a shower, trying not to think about Kitty… too much.

Meanwhile, the object of Bobby's thoughts was yanked forcibly out of a strange dream involving Professor Xavier demonstrating his gymnastic prowess up and down the halls of his home. Kitty bolted upright out of her bed, her radio alarm blaring the local top-40 station. Groggily she turned down the volume a bit, just as the All-American Rejects began to play.

Leaning over to her nightstand, she rummaged for a bra. Absently she hummed along with the song until it reached the chorus, a chorus about a "dirty little secret" and about regret. She froze in place, light-blue bra in hand. Slowly she reached over to shut off her radio, skin crawling with the eeriness of hearing that song.

Her mind now dwelled on the events of the previous night; and now that it did, she surprised herself by moistening up near-instantly. Dropping the bra, she pulled open her panties to inspect them, curious as to just how badly she'd ruined them. She was confronted with a quarter-sized maroon splotch, reminiscent of the start of her periods except for a whitish smudge in the center that she knew had to be Bobby's cum.

Kitty shuddered with excitement at the thought. Her arousal grew more insistent, strengthened by the fact that her body now knew exactly what it was missing, what it needed for maximum satisfaction. Off came her white panties so she could test how sore she was. Kitty winced – the whole area was a bit too tender for what she was considering.

With a sigh, she considered her stained underwear – an otherwise plain pair of white panties now bore the marks of a very important night n her life. Certain she wanted to keep them, she folded them neatly; for the time being, she put them under her pillow with her pajamas, determined to devise a more permanent storage method.

Still pink-cheeked with mild arousal, embarrassment added itself to her blush. Wolverine would likely smell Bobby all over her and ask awkward questions; given his bond with Rogue, such questions could only lead to slow and painful dismembering of the Iceman, his man-parts first to go. Not wanting to indirectly inflict such a horrible fate on the guy she had a huge crush on, Kitty decided to wash herself thoroughly. Besides, she told herself wickedly, maybe the warm water will soothe the soreness.

As it turned out, Kitty found the warm water quite… soothing.

The meeting Storm called ended up as a tense discussion about the future of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, now that the school lacked its founder. At first, it seemed as if Storm were dead set on closing the school and disbanding the X-Men, until the arrival of a tall, blonde young man galvanized her to continue where the Professor had so untimely left off.

Kitty stared, slack-jawed, at the winged young man. Just what this place needs, she mused, another golden-haired Adonis. She soon felt eyes on her, so she pulled her gaze from one Adonis to the other, flushing at having been caught.

Bobby clenched his jaw, unable to believe how Kitty so easily drooled over the newcomer. When she turned toward him like a deer in headlights, though, he felt his jealousy ebb. It's not like Kitty's your girlfriend, he reminded himself. Let her look. Bobby smiled gently at Kitty, who smiled back.

By this point, the meeting had dispersed, leaving the two teens alone in the study together. Silence lingered a few beats. Neither knew for certain how to begin.

After deciding he'd had his fill of silence, Bobby made the opening move, a gambit: "So, Kitty… what do you think of the new guy?"

One slender brown eyebrow arched. "Hey, that's not fair," she protested. Bobby responded with only twinkling eyes and a mischievous smirk. Kitty rolled her eyes. "Fine, he's gorgeous. But, for your information, I was comparing him to you." When she received merely a surprised blink, she added, "And you still came out ahead."

Chuckling, the young man shook his head. "That surprises me, I gotta admit. After… last night… and in the light of day… I didn't know how you'd feel toward me."

At that, Kitty crossed the room to sit next to him, her hand found his. "The same way, knucklehead. I like you, a lot."

"Did you just call me 'knucklehead'?" echoed Bobby with a laugh.

Kitty couldn't help but giggle. "Yeah, I did. That's what I call boys who are cute but dim." To emphasize her point, she stuck out her tongue at him.

Rolling his eyes, Bobby pressed on. "For what it's worth, Kit-Kat, I like you a lot too. We can't… undo things, but I don't think I'd want to."

Kitty smiled. "Me neither. I'd just opt for more premeditation, if I could change anything."

"Yeah, bad timing, we covered this," Bobby replied, a tad impatiently.

The young woman licked her lips. On the verge of commenting on his tone, her thoughts were interrupted as the memory of their shared climax erupted by surprise into her mind's eye. She could have sworn that she felt him pulsing inside her just then, inseminating her. Every last ounce of color drained from her face as she realized a terrible truth, one she'd not realized earlier because of how much she'd enjoyed their tryst.

"Oh God," she moaned, "I… you… we… didn't… use protection…"

Kitty's comment was met with blue eyes growing to rival saucers in size. "Oh, shit, Kitty… I didn't… I mean, it didn't even occur to me…" His head fell into his hands.

Her hand came to rest comfortingly on his shoulder. "It's okay, Bobby. I didn't think about it either, so it's just-as-much-my-fault-if-I-get-pregnant..." Her voice wavered more and more as she babbled faster and faster. "BecauseIwasn'texpectingtohavesexsosoon, …"

Bobby, breath coming in shallow bursts, snaked an arm around Kitty's side. Almost immediately her head went to his shoulder, hers shaking with suppressed sobs. He kept his voice soft as he held her to him: "Shhh… I also kinda assumed… you were on the pill. Remember? We discussed this last night."

Kitty snorted. Dimly she remembered that conversation, though the details were lost in a haze of endorphins at the time. "You know what happens when you assume."

Despite himself, Bobby chuckled. "Yeah, I hope that saying doesn't hold up this time, even though I feel like an ass already."

When Kitty looked up into his eyes, Bobby could see the terror written in her dark, glittering orbs. "Don't," she whispered. "Despite my earlier teasing, you're not an ass, nor are you dim. You're a great guy, Bobby."

While telling him this, Kitty leaned toward the young man, her lips parted invitingly. For his part, Bobby was torn between dismay and excitement that Kitty wanted to kiss him. To kiss, or not to kiss, he thought ruefully. I never thought that would ever be the question.

After several beats of indecision, Bobby restrained the petite brunette with a hand on her shoulder. Fortunately, she remained solid and froze in place as realization of what she was doing dawned on her. "R-right… sorry…" she mumbled.

"It was… it was hard for me… to stop you," he mumbled back.

Briefly her tongue coated her lips with moisture, testing Bobby's willpower sorely. Kitty sat back, increasing the distance between them and bleeding away the tension that had built up, as she added, "I'll, um, keep you up-to-date… about things. It'll be a few weeks before… before I can take any of the tests."

The young man squeezed her hand gently, putting on his best poker face to be strong for her. "Thanks… no offense, but I'm hoping you fail."

A grin lit Kitty's face, and Bobby could have sworn the cloud cover had just lessened to permit more sunlight to reach that room. "None taken," she replied softly. An unsightly wince arose when she shifted her legs.

Bobby winced with her. "Let me guess: sore?"

Kitty bit her lip. "Only a little. I'd heard I wouldn't be able to sit for a week, so it's not so bad." A brief pause ensued before she added, "I wasn't walking funny when we all came for the meeting, was I?"

A quick shake of Bobby's head put that fear to rest. "Hopefully it won't affect you during the weekend Danger Room 'exercise'… which I think we're already late for." He punctuated his statement with a gallant kiss to the back of Kitty's hand.

Cheeks thoroughly pink, the young woman gestured for her friend – she wished he were 'boyfriend' – to lead the way. He obliged; but once they left the study, he released her hand, in spite of his heart's inclination to hold on.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Nearly three weeks had passed since "the event," during which Iceman confronted Pyro while searching for Rogue among seekers of the Cure and Wolverine nearly got himself killed in an attempt to convince Jean to return. Iceman exhausted himself in his efforts to save dozens of innocent lives and spent the next day resting in the infirmary, but Wolverine had defied Magneto and had been turned into a rail-gun projectile for his trouble. Wolverine needed no recuperation, but told anyone who asked that it had taken him a day to heal from all the internal injuries he received. The girls of the Institute split evenly into two camps over which was "dreamier".

Jubilee, for example, vouched for Wolverine: "Wolverine totally wins! He stared down the Master of Magnetism, who by the way can turn him into a puppet!" Everyone knew that Jubilee had an enormous crush on the burly Canadian.

Danielle Moonstar, on the other hand, countered, "Yeah, but Bobby actually succeeded, and saved a lot of people to boot. You can't go wrong with a guy who puts himself on the line to help strangers."

"Logan was fightin' for the woman he loves," Rogue added softly. "Ain't nothin' more romantic, I reckon."

"Aye, that's romantic," conceded Theresa, her third-generation Irish brogue faintly lilting. "Bobby's work was a wee bit more heroic, though, since it saved the lives not only of the doctors and nurses and patients, but firefighters as well." The other girls knew of Theresa's soft spot for those who helped out public servants, since she had a few living and late uncles and aunts on the NYPD and the NYFD.

"Maybe you guys could, like, call it a tie?" Kitty suggested, for the sake of avoiding suspicions. Privately, of course, she belonged squarely in the 'Iceman' camp. Kitty's mediation proved vain, though, for the others remained divided.

Tensions on the outside continued to rise steadily and nearly erupted into violence on several occasions, but the X-Men knew it was only a matter of time, and their time was coming soon.

When the time came, Iceman spoke at length with the others, not wanting for anyone to hold the slightest uncertainty when boarding the X-Jet. Colossus, Shadowcat, and the new kid – christened "Angel" for obvious reasons – had volunteered. Iceman placed a hand on Colossus' massive shoulder and Shadowcat's slim one. What a pair these two make, he mused, only a hint of jealousy bubbling forth at the thought.

Wolverine had only reluctantly accepted the presence of the younger members of the team after a gruff warning about the dangers they'd face and the high stakes involved. Iceman reassured him – reassured all of them – "We're X-Men."

Wolverine held Iceman's gaze for a long, long moment. He gave a curt nod and led them aboard the plane. Meanwhile, Iceman leaned back to whisper to Shadowcat, "That might've gone more smoothly if you hadn't made the quip about the uniforms." A suppressed giggle was the only response.

The X-Jet rumbled through takeoff, and before long the X-Men were riding west on the light of the fading sun. The interior of the jet remained eerily quiet, each of the team members preparing themselves mentally for the trial ahead. Iceman happened to glance to this right, finding himself under the thoughtful scrutiny of a certain petite brunette from across the aisle. He favored her with what he hoped was a brave smile, which she returned.

Unknown to each other, they shared the same thought: I hope I don't get distracted in the middle of the fight because I'm worried about him/her. Their hands drifted across the aisle to touch, then clasp briefly, sending one another a touch of reassurance.

Upon arrival at Alcatraz, the X-Men immediately leapt into the fray. Each descended from the X-Jet in heroic fashion, except for Iceman; Shadowcat wrapped an arm around his waist and sprung from the aircraft. Both felt only the slightest rise of heart-rate, chalking up the twitches in their stomachs to nerves regarding the impending battle.

Instead of the teens splattering on the ground, Shadowcat shifted their solidity so that the solid ground behaved more like liquid ocean, causing them to buoy back to the surface. Unfortunately, Shadowcat's phasing seemed to nauseate others even when she wasn't meaning to, and Iceman looked pitiful with his green-around-the-gills face when they surfaced. Sparing but a moment for a half-glare on his part and a half-impish expression on hers, they parted ways to do battle.

Shadowcat had taken ballet lessons since she turned four, and she had attained prima ballerina status just before her power manifested. Combined with said power of selective intangibility, her grace, agility, leg strength, and comprehensive knowledge of angular momentum made her a very dangerous opponent for the Brotherhood, who to a mutant underestimated her due to her petite, fragile-seeming frame.

She kicked their asses, and they never saw it coming.

When Magneto sent in the Juggernaut to find the little boy whose genes spawned the Cure, Shadowcat gave chase. She played the mouse as he tried to crush her, reaching the boy first through sheer guile – the Juggernaut, not the brightest bulb in the box, charged past as she dodged to the side like a bullfighter.

Meanwhile, Iceman – never a good fist-fighter but always finding clever uses for his power – created ice sheets to trip up his adversaries or columns to entrap them. By and large he avoided close combat if at all possible, deploying cold-blasts like those of a fire extinguisher to the faces when necessary to create space.

Pyro's assault with fiery cars changed the equation. The X-Men scrambled for cover under the improvised artillery strike. Wolverine swiftly assessed the available resources and arrived at the obvious conclusion. "Popsicle," he growled, the nickname irking Iceman to no end, "think you can take out your old friend?"

Iceman nodded and stepped forth to duel his former roommate, his erstwhile friend. They locked horns in a classic battle of fire and ice, appearing to the ever-observant Colossus like something out of one of those anime shows that Jubilee was so fond of watching. Pyro slowly forced Iceman to kowtow, enveloped in flames too bright to look at directly. Colossus turned away, fearful for his friend and called to other obligations as an X-Man as Wolverine continued to lay you this strategy.

Pyro couldn't resist one last insult before he melted the Iceman. "You shoulda stayed in your nice, safe school, Bobby."

From the midst of the flames rose Iceman, his codename no longer a moniker, but a literal description of the young man's powers. He grasped Pyro's flamethrowers and flash-froze them into brittle shells, depriving his foe of his fuel source, exploiting the fire-wielder's inability to create flame. Pyro stared in disbelief at the transformation, at the wholly-unexpected harbinger of his defeat. Iceman used the distraction to deliver a soccer-style headbutt to Pyro's face, forgetting just how hard blocks of ice are.

"You never should've left," Iceman retorted. The flames died as Pyro fell bonelessly, blood streaming from his nose.

Iceman looked down, taking in the sight of the unconscious mutant. Funny, he mused, I thought this moment would be really satisfying… instead, I feel kinda sorry for Pyro, mixed-up kid that he is. Slowly he relaxed, returning himself to his normal appearance. Upon doing so, however, he noticed a distinct draft; a glance down at himself confirmed his suspicions.

No longer ice, Bobby Drake was unwillingly demonstrating that he was a man to anyone who could see him.

Elsewhere on the island, the X-Men had felled Magneto, but the Phoenix took the field, atomizing practically anything in her path. Iceman hefted the dead weight of Pyro over his shoulder, unable even to cover himself as he darted from rubble pile to rubble pile, hiding from the mass exodus of Army and Marines from the island. He had nearly reached the X-Jet when the Phoenix unraveled it.

Heaving a sigh heavenward, he now made a bee-line for the Golden Gate Bridge, modesty utterly forgotten in a mad scramble for survival. With each step he grew more worried about Shadowcat – not because of the Juggernaut, because she was way too smart for him; because of the Phoenix and the fact that she might have been in the X-Jet just now. God, if you're up there, he prayed, uncertain how to do so through total lack of practice, please let her be okay… and long gone already.

As if on cue, Shadowcat emerged from behind the adjacent smoldering ruin of an SUV with a boy of eight or nine in tow. After the near-miss with the Juggernaut – the boy's power causing the mountain of a man to knock himself out – she'd watched in horror as the X-Jet disintegrated. Panicking, she tugged the boy – Jimmy, his codename "Leech" doubly appropriate because of his power and its medicinal use – toward the bridge-head that Magneto had so courteously provided.

She nearly slammed on the brakes, though, when she caught sight of Iceman – or rather, of Bobby Drake in all his glory. My kingdom for a camera, she thought wryly. The girls would pay handsomely for this kind of footage. For his part, Iceman decided that God existed and had a wicked sense of humor when he made eye contact with the ponytailed brunette. The boy squeezed his eyes tightly shut; the young man desperately wished he could, knowing that the only thing preventing him from turning scarlet was the complete inability to blush.

"Ummm... hi," Bobby managed.

"Hi," Kitty replied.

"So... we oughta find a way off this island," Bobby added, trying to kick both of them into gear.

Kitty swallowed and nodded. "Don't... don't get too close... this is Jimmy. He, um, neutralizes powers within a certain radius; they used his genes to make the Cure."

Bobby nodded. "I'll, um, keep my distance. Just in case ice is needed for... anything." Kitty nodded again, and the young mutants climbed onto the remains of the Golden Gate Bridge, headed toward San Francisco.

Kitty tried to be good; honestly she did. She kept her eyes up on Bobby's face until they began walking side-by-side, though at a distance, towards their escape route. She noted him carrying Pyro, needing both hands to hold him steady, and put the pieces together. Maybe I can help design a cold-resistant uniform, she mused, trying to focus on that idea rather than on the way the remaining fires' lights created intriguing shadows across the young man's bare skin.

She tried to keep her eyes straight ahead, but curiosity, as always, overcame her. She got quite an eyeful before forcing herself to look up. Experiences bathing younger male cousins allowed her to identify the signs of circumcision, which simultaneously surprised her and relieved a bit of the guilt of sleeping with him.

The only thing preventing both teens from arousal rather than embarrassment was the imminent danger they faced coupled with exhaustion from their prior efforts. The world around them seemed to be coming apart at the seams, and they couldn't clamber up to the bridge's hardtop fast enough. Once they finally reached a safe distance, they waited for an ambulance; the subsequent ride to the hospital was long and silent, neither teen able to muster the strength to interact.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

After the harrowing battle of Alcatraz, all of the X-Men were given the following week off for both physical and emotional recuperation. Storm even granted leave, using her relatively-new authority as Headmistress, to those members of the team who were also students, giving Shadowcat, Iceman, and Colossus freedom from their studies for the same amount of time. The teens used their time off to reflect and ponder their first major mission; additionally, Bobby had sustained some minor burns that needed healing.

As the week turned into the weekend and Saturday's dawn broke, Bobby awoke from a dream in which he relived his tryst with Kitty. His eyes snapped open during her climax but before his own, preventing an unintentional mess but leaving the young man quite aroused. He quickly concluded that he needed release, as he hadn't had one since sustaining the burns. Thus his athletic shorts and boxers were soon pulled down around his knees, his hand wrapped around his shaft. Wasting no time on a slow warm-up, he immediately began stroking at a fair clip.

Bobby had rarely spent time in consideration of the physical manifestation of his manhood, but this morning he couldn't help but wonder what exactly about it had given Kitty so much pleasure – whether it was the (estimated) seven-inch length that literally hit the spot or the average (though he had no frame of reference) thickness that gave her a feeling of fullness inside, or whether she'd been able to tell that he was circumcised. He figured the latter would probably matter very much to her, given her upbringing.

At that point his imagination took over and placed her on her knees in front of him, her soft hand in place of his. She looked up at him with a saucy smirk on her lips and a matching twinkle in her eyes. "I'm so glad it's kosher," she remarked just before placing him inside her mouth. Her imagined lips slid up and down in time with his real hand, eliciting a groan from the young man. His brain also supplied a memory of the sensation of Kitty's vagina as a substitute for her mouth.

His hand sped up, as did the imaginary Kitty, whose name escaped his lips. He felt his shaft twitching and pulsing in his hand; he thought he remembered an identical incident during intercourse. Deep down, he knew it wouldn't take much longer.

Moments later, it was all over but the cleanup. Bobby allowed himself a satisfied "Ohhhh yeahhhh…" and a good three minutes of languor before cleaning himself up and going about his day.

Kitty padded down the hall, alert for any signs of life from the rooms nearby, ready to phase through the floor at the first indication of activity. Normally she wouldn't have bothered with such subterfuge – there was no rule against the presence of girls in the boys' wing of the Mansion, or vice versa – but she normally didn't carry incriminating white devices in her sweaty hands. Besides, it was still early enough that she didn't want to disturb anyone.

Kitty had risen earlier than usual that morning and headed straight for her bathroom, where she had stashed the home pregnancy test she'd bought earlier that week while running errands for Miss Munroe. The box had hidden in her hoodie once she left the convenience store en route to the copy shop for the latest batch of Xavier Institute brochures. The receipt for the cash transaction she'd surreptitiously placed inside the convenience store's wall, wrapped around the steel reinforcement bar.

While she understood the basic biochemistry that made her high-end digital hormone detector function, Kitty couldn't help but feel a bit absurd when supplying the sensor with the necessary chemical sample. At least I don't have to prick my finger like a diabetic, she told herself with a wince. A brief skim of the directions informed her that the test needed three to five minutes before displaying a result.

Of all the methods Kitty utilized to make the time pass more quickly – chewing her lip, quieting her roiling stomach, counting the floor tiles in her bathroom, reciting the Twenty-third Psalm to herself in Hebrew – none worked. No matter how hard she willed the result to appear, the indicator remained stubbornly blank. She could swear that she felt her hair graying.

Finally, after what had to be the longest three to five minutes of her life – if not the longest three to five minutes in the whole of recorded history – the indicator displayed its clearly-worded result: NOT PREGNANT.

Placing the plastic cap over the chemical sensor, Kitty had sat slumped in relief against her cabinet for a good twenty minutes before deciding to surprise Bobby with the wonderful news. Approaching his door, she clutched the device to her chest, just as she had upon first seeing the result. Her brow furrowed slightly when she thought she heard her name muffled through the door.

Deciding against knocking, she called his name softly and asked for permission to enter. Only silence was the reply, until she heard him answer – sleepily, it seemed – with a "Yeahhh…" Kitty braced herself with a deep breath before walking through the door.

Her stride halted nearly instantly, almost as if she had run into the door without using her powers, so stunned was she by what she saw. Bobby Drake lay before her eyes on his bed, shirtless, panting, shorts down, eyes closed, hand wrapped around his still-pulsing member, stomach and chest spattered with a Pollockian pattern of semen. Kitty stood momentarily mesmerized by Bobby's softening erection, until she realized that his oblivion to her presence wouldn't last much longer. To avoid awkwardness, she stepped backward through the door, as insubstantially as she had walked through initially.

Never before had Kitty gone from zero to horny in under five seconds, but she could feel herself moistening rapidly, her breathing shallowing. She barely resisted the urge to slip her hand down into her panties and go at it right then and there. Instead, she dashed back to her room; once there, she hid the pregnancy test and took a cool shower.

Kitty's shower helped cool her desire somewhat, but Bobby's erection stuck like a splinter in her mind's eye, keeping her distracted and aroused all day. Any time she tried to catch up on her homework, she thought about it. During lunch and dinner, she thought about it. She most certainly thought about it when she saw Bobby outside shirtless while mowing the lawn.

In an attempt to get her mind off of Bobby Drake, she elected to join the other girls at their bi-weekly slumber party that evening. Kitty thought talking about frivolous girlie stuff for a while or nail-painting or cards or movies or whatever the girls wanted to do might keep her thoughts away from boys, one in particular. The plan worked, at first; but Kitty hadn't accounted for the other girls' obsession with boys.

"I just love Saturdays here!" crowed Jubilee. "Especially in warm weather, when the lawn needs mowing and the boys all pitch in… sans shirts, of course." At this, Kitty studiously buried her nose in a Marie Claire.

Theresa laughed and shook her head. "Decided which one ye like best yet?"

"No way! It's way too hard to choose. There's Logan, of course; and Pete… mmmm." Jubilee bit her lip, her eyes rolling back.

Danielle, normally quiet during Jubilee's "drool-fests," as she called them, chipped in: "How about that new kid, the one from Kentucky?"

"Sam Guthrie. Thank God for country boys like him," Jubilee gushed, and Danielle nodded in agreement.

Kitty couldn't help but snipe at her playfully. "Yeah, I bet you'd really enjoy it if he 'plowed your field'."

Unwilling to let that pass, Jubilee fired back, "Right, Kitty, like you weren't staring out your window all day, panting for a nice, cold popsicle to put in your mouth." A stunned silence descended on the girls.

"In retrospect," Kitty replied calmly, though feeling the flush creep into her cheeks, "joining this conversation was a bad idea. I'll just return to my regularly scheduled programming." She resumed reading the magazine.

"Jubes, that did go a bit too far," chided Danielle.

Jubilee snorted. "Excuse me for zinging her back. We all know she's hot for Bobby."

Theresa chimed in, "Aren't we all?" The other two, Jubilee and Danielle, looked at each other for several moments before nodding concession.

Kitty chuckled. "Sorry, I guess my comment was outta line too."

"No prob," Jubilee shrugged. "Besides, with Rogue… gone… you're next in line for him anyway." Kitty flushed further.

Theresa cut Kitty off before she could refute Jubilee. "We, ah, heard a rumor – from Pete, mind ye – that ye saw Bobby naked."

Kitty's eyes widened, and she just knew she was incandescent by now. "Ummm… well… I mean… his uniform… the ice… ummmmm…"

Danielle's jaw dropped. "You did see him naked!"

Jubilee scooted closer. "Spill!"

Kitty tried to laugh, but it sounded closer to a wimpy cough to her. "Alcatraz… it was kinda surreal, really. It looked like Jean, er, Phoenix was gonna rip the world a new one –"

"Ah, c'mon, quit stalling! How big was it?" When all the girls looked in surprise at Theresa, from whom the interruption came, she merely grinned sheepishly.

By this point Kitty had progressed beyond embarrassment. Recalling the incident on Alcatraz led her mind to a more recent event, one which she'd been trying to forget all day. The heat from her face had spread down to her loins, which now throbbed rather insistently. Aloud, she managed, "There really wasn't much, um, time to take detailed notes, ladies. We were fleeing imminent dissolution, and fate decided to drop that moment of absurdity on our heads."

Jubilee wasn't going to let that pass, either. "But you still saw him. Like, the whole enchilada."

Kitty nodded mock-wearily. If only you knew, she mused. "It's mostly a blur," she added as an afterthought.

Now satisfied, the girls' conversation moved onward to the topic of Rogue's mysterious disappearance, the likelihood that she took the Cure, and how long she waited to get laid after taking it. Kitty shifted where she sat, idly noting that she occupied more or less the same spot on the couch where "the event" had occurred. Her arousal spiked at the thought; her whole body quivered at the memory. With the other girls engrossed in gossip, Kitty phased through the couch and slipped away from the party.

Moments later, when she arrived in her room, Kitty locked her door – she didn't want anyone to karmically walk in on her. Approaching her bed, she phased her pajamas right off her body into a neat pile on the floor and lay down. Clad only in her now-damp panties, the young woman let her hands roam over her exposed skin, all of which felt unbelievably warm. Finally they cupped her breasts and palmed the sensitive tips, drawing a soft whimper from the young woman's throat.

The throbbing in her groin intensified as she kneaded, demanding attention. Kitty shimmied her panties to her knees rather than phasing them off, because she liked the feeling as they slid down her legs, especially once she raised her knees and gravity pulled the undergarments to her ankles. Furthermore, taking off her panties just like other girls made her feel more like other girls overall, which in turn made it easier for her to enjoy her 'alone time'.

Kitty moaned aloud when her finger found the sensitive nub between her thighs. Legs parting for better access, she began stroking the nub, slowly at first but quickly accelerating. Her breathing grew more ragged as the pleasure built inside her.

Another moan, this one longer and louder, passed her lips. Kitty's imagination supplied the image that had been haunting her all day: the naked body of Bobby Drake covered in his own cum. The imaginary Bobby ran his hands all over her body and kissed her neck and ears. Jolts of pure ecstasy climbed her spine.

Imaginary Bobby climbed atop her and entered her with one smooth thrust, and Kitty's memory supplied the sensations. Unfortunately, her body wanted more than just a remembered feeling; it wanted – it needed – something real, something tangible, inside. Swallowing her embarrassment, Kitty slipped a finger inside herself, an action she'd never performed before while masturbating. A few thrusts synchronized with her phantom lover increased the amount of pleasure she felt, but still she felt empty. Adding a second finger seemed to alleviate the emptiness.

If the orgasm that rocked her body after less than a minute of thrusting was any indication, those two fingers were exactly what her body was craving that evening. To her surprise, though, Kitty could tell she wasn't quite finished. My body wants more, she realized with a shock as her pussy gripped her finger. I want more. I think… I'll indulge myself tonight. So she did.

Seven orgasms and ninety minutes later, Kitty finally exhausted herself. Sleeping naked would be added to that night's list of firsts for her.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

The following afternoon, Bobby lay on his bed, his chemistry textbook and homework spread out before him. He'd been balancing endothermic and exothermic reactions for nearly two hours; the only thing keeping him from taking a break was the fact that he was almost finished. A soft knock on the door broke his concentration. "Come in?" he called out absently, not yet looking up from his work.

"Bobby, can we, um, talk?" came the rich alto voice of one Kitty Pryde as she closed the door behind her.

The young man looked up from the diagram of a trinitrotoluene molecule to see the petite brunette his mind seemed to dwell on lately. Clad in a pastel-blue tee and khaki capris, hair back in her signature ponytail, she stood with her hands behind her back. She chewed her lip nervously and seemed bent on avoiding his eyes.

Kitty, for her part, had spent all morning working up the nerve to talk to Bobby, partly due to her fear of… interrupting… him again, and partly due to her own embarrassment at waking up naked, legs spread, hand at her groin and covered in her dried juices. After showering and working on her own homework, she'd steeled herself and made the near-interminable walk down the hall. Behind her back, her hands gave the plastic bag she was holding an 'Indian sunburn,' twisting the material in opposite directions. Her gaze she purposefully kept to the floor or to the other furniture in the room.

The sound of his voice calling her name brought her eyes up to meet his, triggering an immediate blush. "What's on your mind?" he asked, the barest quaver in his voice as he closed the chemistry text.

"Well, um, I wanted to, um, tell you something. I, um, dropped by yesterday—" She cut off mid-sentence, eyes widening in embarrassment over her Freudian slip.

"Yesterday," Bobby responded evenly, trying to hide the fear in his voice. He sat up in his bed, one foot dangling over the edge.

Kitty simply nodded, her eyes inadvertently flicking toward his groin, currently denim-colored. "Yeah," she finally managed, forcing her brain back into the proper gear, "I… I've got, um, news." There, I said it.

Bobby licked his lips. "Oh no, Kitty… don't tell me… you're…" The young man heard the pounding of his heartbeat against his eardrums.

Kitty blinked, momentarily confused by Bobby's reaction until it dawned on her that he'd jumped to the wrong conclusion. "No, no, Bobby, I came to tell you I'm not." She closed the distance between the door and the bed in a few strides, sitting down instinctively. When she finally brought her hands around, the young woman presented a small white device stored in a plastic bag.

Bobby practically snatched the object out of Kitty's hands, startling her. "Don't open the bag," she half-warned, half-pleaded. The young man's quizzical look prompted her to explain, "It's, y'know, gross… 'cuz of how it, y'know…"

"Oh, right." Bobby rotated and flipped the device until he could properly read the result display: NOT PREGNANT.

Neither teenager knew what to say when they found themselves in an unexpected spontaneous embrace, but both of them were sure that it was warranted. They held each other for what seemed like an hour, savoring one another's nearness. Finally, after what was, in reality, only a few minutes, the two teens started to separate. They stalled, however, upon making eye contact, as if mesmerized, their faces not even a foot apart.

Bobby licked his suddenly-dry lips and swallowed. Kitty's fathomless eyes, like silent sirens, were drawing him in. The paired dark-brown crystal balls seemed to conjure his deepest wishes by – reflecting? mimicking? – his attraction to Kitty. He leaned toward her, heedless of where the sirens' song would lead.

Kitty found herself frozen by Bobby's gaze. So stunned was she by those aquamarine irises – in all their glory in the full light of day – that she ignored the pinking of her cheeks, the quickening of her breath, the insistent beating of her heart on her eardrums. Just as he started to close the gap between them again, she saw in his eyes the depths of his attraction to her, an attraction she certainly reciprocated.

Their lips met like those of two lovers separated by months of time and hundreds of miles, eager but not aggressive, passionately restrained. Cupping Kitty's cheeks with both hands, Bobby savored her soft lips on his. A soft whimper escaped Kitty's mouth; a shiver climbed her spine. A similar shiver crawled up the young man's body when Kitty's fingertips raked his abs.

When Bobby's hand slid down the young woman's arms and took up an identical position, the teenagers broke the kiss. Bobby couldn't help but grin; Kitty smiled sheepishly, a section of her lower lip wedged demurely between her incisors. Bobby also couldn't help but notice how much Kitty had reddened – just from a kiss, he remarked in amazement to himself.

They both started to speak, abortively once they realized they were interfering with one another. Both of them laughed nervously. Bobby nodded for Kitty to go first.

Kitty took a deep breath and forged ahead. "I, um, guess you know this already, but… I really like you, Bobby."

"I really like you too, Kit-Kat," Bobby replied, scratching the back of his head.

Several beats passed.

"So… I guess we can… I mean, if you wanna…" Bobby stammered.

Kitty's brow furrowed a bit, belying her otherwise amused expression. "C'mon, Bobby, I need a main verb here."

The young man couldn't help but laugh, which seemed to jump-start his eloquence. "What I'm trying to say is, 'Let's give "us" a chance.' How 'bout it?"

Beaming, the young woman could only nod. Inwardly, she felt as if she were about to take flight. She was so giddy, in fact, that she didn't realize that Bobby had said something else until he called her out of her reverie merely by the power of her name.

"Sorry, Bobby, what was that? I was en route to Cloud 9 just now."

He chuckled and repeated, "I was apologizing for us, y'know, doing things out of order."

Kitty just shrugged, wishing to herself that he hadn't brought it up. "I'm… I'm okay with it, Bobby. In fact, I… think about it… a lot," she admitted crimsonly.

"Same here," Bobby replied. "But I guess you knew that already, huh?"

Several beats passed again.

Kitty fidgeted. "So… what now, Bright Eyes?"

"Turn around," replied Bobby, smirking at her use of her nickname for him. When Kitty rolled her eyes, he added, "Seriously. I was, um, enjoying a few minutes ago."

The petite brunette slowly presented her back to her newly-minted boyfriend, the mere thought filling the young woman with glee. "Same here," she murmured as he wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder. Subconsciously Kitty tilted her head ever so slightly to expose her neck to him. "So let's, um, see where… where things go from here."

A soft gasp escaped her lips when Bobby accepted her unintended, unspoken offer. From the base of her neck, where it blended into the shoulder, up to the hinge of her jaw, he placed short but full kisses in a stair-step pattern. Briefly he felt the pulse in her neck when he pressed down in just the right spot before moving to the next. As he approached her ear, the crisp scent of her shampoo filled his nose, driving him to inhale deeply.

Meanwhile, Kitty closed her eyes and savored the sensation of having her neck kissed. Her hands ran the length of Bobby's forearms till they reached his wrists. Gradually, of their own accord, her hands guided his up her torso to rest atop her breasts. Bobby immediately took the hint and squeezed gently through her shirt, eliciting a soft hum of enjoyment from her.

A little more exploratory fondling brought Bobby to an interesting realization, one which he felt compelled to voice aloud: "You're not wearing a bra."

"Guilty as charged," admitted Kitty, voice wavering. "I, um, usually don't, unless I'm wearing some combination of white, thin, or sheer." She sighed, partly from pleasure at Bobby's ministrations, partly from resignation. "Otherwise, they're really too small for me to bother."

"They don't feel all that small to me," the young man responded in an earnest attempt to stop her from belittling herself.

"Like you're an expert," she teased him. "How many girls have you seen topless that weren't on a computer screen?"

"None," he replied, sufficiently taken aback not to qualify his denial in any way – say, by admitting that he preferred Playboy.

"Then take my word for it: they're small."

"Kitty, c'mon," Bobby started in exasperation.

"Fine, if you don't believe me," she responded, escaping his embrace by phasing through his arms. Abruptly she spun back around to face him, dropped her hands to the hem of her shirt, and pulled it off over her head. "Here they are," she added, the tone of defiance in her voice merely a front for her shock at her own brazenness.

The moment Kitty began peeling her shirt off, Bobby's eyes widened. He knew he would never forget how her breasts bounced ever so slightly as they were freed from the admittedly-lax confines of her shirt. Now she stood akimbo, topless, baring herself for his immense viewing pleasure. Her breasts were smallish, true, but Bobby thought they might just warrant a B-cup; what they lacked in size they made up for in perkiness. Most surprising to the young man were the fully-at-attention light-brown nipples – as opposed to the pink that he was expecting – crowning the fleshy orbs.

It came as no surprise to either of them, then, that the best he could manage was, "Wow."

Kitty grew noticeably more self-conscious the longer Bobby took to say anything more after the initial reaction. Just as she started to fold her arms across her chest, he reached out and took her hands. "Kitty," he began, wholly unsure where he would end up, "I think they're sexy. So what if you can't use them as flotation devices in an emergency?"

Rolling her eyes, the teenage girl giggled in spite of herself. "Thanks, Bobby. It… means a lot, to hear you say that." She looked down at her breasts. "I guess I'd look pretty strange if they were bigger."

Bobby snorted. "You probably couldn't stand up straight."

This comment drew another giggle from Kitty as she resumed her seat beside Bobby. "Y'know, Bobby," she purred once on the bed, "I could really go for some gender equality right now."

The confused boy merely blinked for a few moments until he could parse out what she meant. He rolled his eyes and removed his shirt, fulfilling for Kitty many an X-Girl's long-time wish – to see shirtless Bobby Drake up close and personal. The young man grinned at her slack-jawed expression.

Kitty might have sworn her eyes had bugged out of her head when Bobby pulled his shirt over his head. Everything – pecs, abs, arms – was so well-defined; though not 'ripped' like, say, Pete, he was certainly well-sculpted. Maybe that's why I can't keep my hands off, she thought wryly, barely suppressing a shiver of desire. Spontaneously, she imagined him posing nude as though for Michelangelo's David; she subsequently decided that the statue would have turned out even better if Bobby had posed for the legendary Renaissance artist.

"I guess you like what you see," the teenage boy quipped, seeing as he did – how could he not? – the flush of arousal spread from Kitty's cheeks, down her neck, to her collarbones. Unbuttoning his shorts, he added, "Since you've seen it all already, I guess I might as well go for the full monty." With that, he tugged off his shorts and boxers, giving even more of an eyeful to his newly-minted girlfriend. The thought made him twitch with excitement.

"Ohhhh my God," Kitty breathed, the sight quashing any further thoughts of Bobby as David and stimulating thoughts of Bobby as Goliath. Though she'd seen it before, on Alcatraz, it hadn't been erect at the time; further, she hadn't gotten a very good look at it yesterday when she walked in on him. Thus, seeing it now, fully-erect and pulsing, came as a bit of a shock to the young woman. Holy moly, she marveled, the tip is purple! It wasn't purple last time I saw it! Of course, it was smaller too, butnowit'? Kitty's thighs rubbed together, the accumulating moisture signaling the yearning she was beginning to feel deep inside her.

For his part, Bobby couldn't remember the last time he'd been this turned on. Never before had he purposefully aroused a girl; certainly never had he been naked in front of one. If there's one word I could use to describe this feeling, he mused, it would be 'intoxicating.'

Swallowing any hesitation, Bobby decided to break the spell he'd inadvertently placed on Kitty. "So, Kitty, I, ah, think it's my turn for some… y'know… gender equality."

With all the speed of a glacier on the move, she looked up at him, about to protest. Realizing she'd left herself no room for refusal – even if she wanted to refuse, that is – she unsnapped her capris. The speed at which she slid them, along with her boy-short underwear, down her legs rivaled her earlier celerity when Bobby first made the request. At least my legs are sexy, she told herself – an assessment which, unbeknownst to her, Bobby fully agreed with. Wryly, she added, Thank you, decade of ballet classes.

All their clothes now discarded, the teenage couple lay together on the bed, naked and unashamed.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

On the twin bed in Bobby Drake's room, two semi-bashful, stark-naked teenagers shifted themselves to lie lengthwise – they had previously lain athwart – and rolled onto their sides, their eyes meeting amidst a swirl of arousal and uncertainty. Kitty's cheeks carried faint pink streaks, and Bobby's breathing maintained an accelerated pace. Their bare skin pressed together in some places, merely brushed in others.

"We're naked," Kitty murmured, not trusting herself to speak up just now. "Now what?"

Bobby swallowed nervously, hearing in Kitty's question and the tone of her voice her yearning to make love, her desire for them to interact in that most intimate way. "I'm really turned on right now," he hedged, certain that she could read his intent: he wanted her as much as she wanted him, but he couldn't bring himself to crassly say so.

The young woman bit her lip and nodded; her skin rippled briefly into miniature hills with the thrill of knowing he wanted her. "Same here," she whispered, her intent to reassure him beyond any doubt that she herself had none.

Bobby leaned toward her, and she toward him, their lips locking in a heated kiss that quickly saw their tongues nuzzling inside their conjoined mouths. The young man guided her to lie back while he rolled atop her, savoring the feel of her body, her warm skin, her 'secret garden', against him. Vaguely Kitty felt ashamed of how quickly and easily her legs fell open for him, but she ultimately decided she'd crossed the boundary of 'propriety' with that first tryst.

Kitty wrapped her arms around Bobby's neck while his hands ranged up and down her back and sides. Without breaking the kiss, she managed to scoot a bit farther away from the edge of the bed, assuaging her fear that they might roll off in flagrante. Doing so caused her to thrust her hips against Bobby's erection, which only fueled her arousal further.

"Geez, Kitty… hold your horses," Bobby teased between kisses. Before she could respond that she wasn't all that impatient, his hands moved to rest on her hips, his thumbs stretching down into her nether region to hold her open for him. They both gasped in surprised pleasure at the contact, revealing as it did that Kitty's arousal had seeped out to coat the contours of her sex.

In that moment of surprised pleasure, Kitty's legs twitched. Her left foot bumped into something, but it wasn't until Bobby shifted himself downward – to properly align them for intercourse – that she could see what the object was: the plastic bag holding the pregnancy test, dropped when things had grown passionate and forgotten until just now. Just as Bobby started to penetrate her, she stopped him by planting her knees against his hips.

"Kitty, what's with the jiu-jitsu?" He tried – and mostly succeeded – to sound more concerned than annoyed.

"I can't believe," she began breathlessly, "we almost forgot the, um, protection… again." She pointed to the plastic-wrapped reminder on the bed.

Immediately the young man recoiled from his would-be lover, his face frozen in a grimace. "Dammit, you're right, sorry." He started looking from side to side. "I, um, oughta have one around here somewhere…"

"You have a condom stash?" Kitty asked, surprised to the point of incredulity – she never would have guessed that he thought himself such a Casanova, given everything she knew about him and his general image as a "good guy."

Bobby didn't respond to her question immediately, rummaging about this room for a prophylactic. He checked the most likely locations – wallet, nightstand, underwear and sock drawers, bathroom cabinet – to no avail. His right hand intermittently strayed to his groin, caressing or stroking to maintain his erection.

For her part, Kitty didn't mind that Bobby hadn't answered her, because she was busily enjoying the inadvertent show she was witnessing. Especially that ass, she mused. I can't wait to get my hands on it again. The thought spurred her to assist in the search, aid which at first constituted merely sitting up and looking around on the floor. On a hunch she checked under the bed, but her search came up empty.

Meanwhile, Bobby exited his bathroom, at a loss for where to look next – in fact, even whether or not to continue looking at all. His thoughts were arrested by the sight of Kitty's lower half – her tight, pert bum; her lower legs raised for balance, toes pointed toward the ceiling; her parted legs exposing fully her glistening-wet pussy. Resisting the urge to jump her while she was in such an inviting position required every ounce of willpower the young man possessed.

Kitty sat up when she started feeling faint from hanging upside-down, her face redder than it had been thus far. Upon finding Bobby staring at her, she just shook her head. "Nothing. Any luck?"

"No. I mean, I only had the one handed out in guys' sex ed, when Mr. Summers passed them out." Another moment's thought triggered a likely scenario: "I bet John swiped mine before he left, figuring I'd never need it." Bobby rolled his eyes at his former friend's probable logic.

Chewing her lip, Kitty propped herself up on her elbows. "So, what do we do? No condom equals no sex, but I'm really, really turned on." Her hips thrust fractionally into the open air, underscoring the young woman's quandary.

Equally frustrated, Bobby lay down next to her, racking his brain for a suggestion. Before long, he came up with, "We could just… touch each other, I guess."

Without a moment's hesitation, the young woman pressed herself against him, permitting her hands free rein to roam her boyfriend's well-toned body. Her fingers traced his abs, pecs, deltoids, quads, biceps – practically any major muscle group she could reach. She especially savored gripping the glutes she'd recently been admiring.

Despite his fleeting surprise at his girlfriend's enthusiasm, the young man swiftly responded in kind. Relishing the feel of her warm skin pressed against him, he lightly traced the hollow of her neck and the dip of her waist between ribs and hips. Eagerly he caressed her butt, her thighs, her stomach, her breasts, all of which created a wonderful blend of smooth, soft, and firm textures for him to enjoy.

The couple traded kisses to various parts of one another's face and neck. They squirmed and writhed in response to the other's caresses. They uttered low-pitched noises of desire and pleasure, especially when Bobby's member would twitch against Kitty's hip or when Kitty would rub her wetness against Bobby's thigh.

Of one unspoken accord, the two teenagers slipped one hand between them to the other's groin. In order to fully situate themselves, Kitty scooted a bit further toward the foot of the bed and lifted one leg until it was perpendicular to the bed, her foot resting flat on the mattress. Gingerly, she wrapped her hand around his shaft and started stroking with barely-contained enthusiasm.

The young man groaned. "That feels great."

The young woman smirked impishly. "I saw how you did it to keep yourself hard earlier."

"Right… bear with me if I don't know… how to touch you." With that, he began caressing her sensitive nether lips.

"Th-that'sagoodstart," Kitty assured him, barely containing a moan.

Encouraged, Bobby pressed his fingertip between the folds and onto a little nub of flesh toward the front – the term 'clitoris' sprang forth from the recesses of his mind from the sex-ed class he'd mentioned to Kitty. He decided to try rubbing up and down at the same pace Kitty was using to stroke him. She rewarded him with a long moan, accompanied by her eyes rolling back into her head until the lids fluttered shut.

What little cogent thought Kitty could muster she devoted to altering the pattern of her strokes. She began, as Bobby had earlier, by focusing on the tip, pulling the ridge of the circumcision scar over the flared edges of the head, a strategy which earned her a few groans. Next, she experimented with full-length strokes, which – to her delight – triggered Bobby thrusting into her hand. Finally, she tried rubbing closer to the base of the shaft, where it joined the rest of the body; while failing to garner a direct reaction, she realized when she returned to the first technique that her hand was quickly covered with slick pre-cum.

As he stroked Kitty's most sensitive spot, Bobby enjoyed Kitty's building reactions. He knew he would never forget how her eyebrows and eyelids would contract and relax with the periodic surges of pleasure she was feeling. His own eyes shut themselves in short order, unable to remain open during the sensory onrush overwhelming him. Nevertheless, when she began bucking her hips and moaning his name, he experienced a primal, deep-seated thrill.

Suddenly – too suddenly for any verbal warning – Bobby's dick pulsed in Kitty's hand, spilling his seed all over his stomach; a fair amount coated Kitty's palm, though, because she didn't immediately cease her ministrations. Never before, not even during their full-fledged tryst, had Kitty felt as sexy as she did at that moment; the joy, the triumph, the sheer euphoria of that instant – of making Bobby cum with just her hand – initiated her own climax. "Bobby! Oh yes! Yes! YES!" she cried, without the slightest apprehension regarding her volume.

"Kitty… oh God… ohhh God yes," Bobby groaned, on the trailing edge of his own orgasm. Dimly he admired the look on Kitty's face: mouth open so wide he could see the filling in one of her molars, eyes clamped shut and framed by her signature bangs plastered to her face by sweat, eyebrows furrowed into symmetrical S-shapes. If I didn't know better, he mused, I'd think she was in pain.

Gradually the paired orgasms abated, leaving both teenagers breathless and flat on their backs. Bonelessly Bobby reached over to his nightstand for a box of tissues. He pulled out a half-dozen, handed half of those to Kitty, and began blotting the semen from his stomach and chest. Kitty languorously wiped off her hand, figuring she'd need to wash up once her legs stopped feeling like rubber. Having one tissue left, she gently wiped off Bobby's rapidly-softening penis.

Once they finished cleaning up, Bobby tossed the used tissues into a nearby wastebasket. Kitty couldn't help but giggle contagiously.

Bobby chuckled as well. "What's so funny?"

"Your 'mad skills'. Nothing but net, even with wadded-up Kleenex."

Bobby's only response was to take Kitty's hand in his. "That's one of the things I like about you, Kit-Kat: you have the quirkiest sense of humor."

Kitty squeezed Bobby's hand in response, letting a short, comfortable silence wash over them. As they recovered from their activities, they began recomposing themselves for the rest of the evening. Inwardly, they both wished to remain in a state of undress, but they feared potential temptation and potential discovery.

Half-watching her dress herself, Bobby could tell Kitty had something on her mind. Once she was fully-clothed again, he voiced his concerns: "Penny for your thoughts."

She looked up at him and smiled softly. "About just now… it was a lot of fun, even though we didn't get to, um, y'know." Bobby nodded, patiently waiting for the other shoe to drop. "It's gotten me thinking… maybe we oughta wait awhile before we actually have sex again."

"Don't want our relationship to be based solely on sex?"

Kitty licked her lips. "Yeah, that's about the size of it."

Bobby half-smiled; he'd been thinking the same thing. "I'm okay with that, honest. Let's see where things take us."

Kitty Pryde beamed at Bobby Drake, her new boyfriend. The optimism suggested by that term palpably permeated every nerve in her body. "Mind if I hang out here till dinner?"

Bobby Drake smiled back at his new girlfriend, Kitty Pryde. The optimism of this new relationship – especially after all the turmoil both of them had endured over the last few months – felt like a welcome change of pace. "I'd be delighted," he told her.

And they did just that.


End file.
